Around In Circles We Go
by Lia Felix
Summary: Cullen is tasked with looking after the mage until she reaches Ostagar. What he expected was a short trip, and then home. What he never expected was to be swept up in the affairs and battles of the Wardens, the Circle only a distant memory. Between the Blight and a mage whose every glance sends his heart pounding, can our templar hope to find something that he never dreamed of?
1. PROLOGUE

**_DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything belongs to Gaider and Bioware, etc etc._**

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**PROLOGUE**

–

He coughs, heaving and rasping coughs that make is lungs rattle and ache. Through the smoke, he can barely make out the slender robe clad figure backing away slowly from the ogre. He can almost imagine the fear in her eyes – the same look that she wore, perhaps, the night of her harrowing? He had wanted to reach out, and ease her fright, but of course that was impossible. And even now, without the confinements of the Tower surrounding them, he was still helpless.

He needed to help. He glanced blearily around for his sword, and saw it a few metres to his left. Groaning, he slowly stretched out his arm as far as he could to the handle, but stopped immediately as he nearly blacked out from the pain. _Shattered ribs,_ the thought crossed his mind dimly. His vision was becoming darker now, and he helplessly watched as Amell desperately fired a huge blast of ice towards the ogre. For once, something seemed to work, and the lumbering creature stopped in its tracks, its huge clawed feet encased in solid ice. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Alistair, sword gleaming in his hand, leaping up and plunging his weapon straight into the base of the ogre's neck. An unearthly screech erupted from the creature as blood cascaded down from the now gaping wound, but he could see more darkspawn spilling through the door.

_We're going to die here,_ he realised as he watched the other man tackle the swarm head on.

His vision blurred and darkened, and through the foggy blackness he heard a voice yelling his name. He tried to push himself up, tried to reply, but his head felt like lead, sinking in water. As he blacked out Cullen's only thought was on the mage on the other side of the room rushing towards him, her eyes gleaming in the firelight, so bright...

–

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_**A/N:** BASED OFF THE DAKINKMEME PROMPT: _

_"Even though Amell was recruited by Duncan, she is still Greagoir's responsibility until she actually undergoes the joining. He's halfway convinced that she'll start slitting her wrists and dancing naked under the moonlight the second she's out from templar supervision. So he sends Cullen along to keep an eye on Amell until she's officially 100% Duncan's problem. Of course, everything goes to hell at Ostagar, and Cullen can't get back to the tower right away. He travels with Amell and companions."_


	2. BEFORE

_**DISCLAIMER: Nothing belongs to me, owned by Bioware and Gaider, etc don't sue me.**_

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**BEFORE**

**–**

"Knight Commander, I'm not sure I understand what you're – "

Greagoir sighed and held up a hand. Cullen immediately ceased talking and stood still, feeling like a small child. He watched silently as Greagoir rubbed his temple slowly his shoulder carrying only a hint of weariness that he must be feeling as he leant against the desk in front of him.

"Cullen, enough. You understand perfectly well that the _mage_ could be dangerous – no, let me rephrase – _very_ dangerous. Regardless of what that _Grey Warden_ has said I will not let her simply march out of here unwatched." The venom that the Knight Commander stated the words 'Grey Warden' said much about his views of the whole affair which occurred less than an hour ago. Cullen can understand his paranoia. It's not every day that a mage somehow managed to destroy their phylactery, let alone escaping the tower. And, as luck would have it, his accomplice was Solona Amell. Not surprising, since the two mages were thick as thieves, but still…

Cullen didn't know her as well as he would've liked, but they had talked on occasion, and she had always been rather shy and reserved. It was one of the many things about her that charmed him initially. He still found it hard to believe that someone so modest and rule abiding could be a part of the plan. If he hadn't been there to witness her walking out the basement with the blood mage and the chantry sister, he never would've believed anyone if they had told him what happened.

"So," the Knight Commander continued, breaking through his train of thought, "You understand the necessity for a guard. Someone to watch her and make sure _nothing happens_ until they're at Ostagar - until she is a part of that order and therefore no longer our problem after that."

Cullen looked at the older man in front of him uncertainly. Before, he couldn't understand, but now the reason seemed clear as day. Surely this couldn't be another test for him. The harrowing was bad enough, and he still feels uneasy remembering how sweaty his hands were as they clutched the handle of the broadsword hovering so close to her neck.

"Ser, it's not that I doubt your decision, but…" Cullen hesitated, looking at the ground. "Perhaps a more experienced templar? I don't understand why me. Surely there are others far more capable and suited to this task…"

Greagoir peered at him from behind the wide desk. The pause that followed seemed to stretch on for eons. Finally the Knight Commander placed his hands on the table in front of him, and looked at Cullen straight in the eyes.

"You have been at the tower for as long as she has, Cullen. You're one of the few recruits who has spoken to this mage, and you know her better than most." The words weren't said, but the implications were there, hidden beneath the placid tone and the slight downwards turn of Greagoir's mouth. Cullen felt his palms begin to itch again.

"Based on your history of… interactions, you are the most capable out of the others to predict her actions and make sure she behaves. And I believe the mage if friendly towards you, yes?"

Cullen swallows and nods stiffly. Greagoir made a noise half way between satisfaction and annoyance.

"You are therefore assigned to mage Solona Amell until her rites announce her as a formal Grey Warden. You are to act as her guard and protector, and make sure the mage causes no harm to anyone else or herself. If she practices blood magic, you are to strike her down without mercy. Do you understand the task given to you?"

Another stiff nod.

_A lake_. Cullen thought as he schooled his features into blankness_. I must be as calm and serene as a lake. _

"Take this." A sealed scroll was held out to him, which Cullen accepted with a small bow. "It will inform anyone of your duties while on the road, should you encounter any trouble."

Cullen nodded and tucked the scroll away into his breastplate. Safer to nod than to speak. He looked up to see Greagoir looking at him with a curious expression on his face. It was gone as soon as he spied it however, and the older man flapped his hand at the door in a gesture of dismissal.

"Go on, quickly, be gone with that mage. And return as soon as you can, do not forget your duties."

Cullen bowed again, this time deeper and moved quickly out the door. Greagoir watched the young man disappear around the bend, and heaved a sigh.

"Good luck, Cullen. May the Maker protect you on your trip."

**–**

It didn't take him very long to gather a few belongings and necessary items for the trip. Five vials of lyrium went into the pack, the box wrapped carefully in fabric. As long as he was cautious, they will last him for well over a month, and surely the trip would take far less than that. A few scrolls, a pouch of coins, and a small carved wooden amulet. Satisfied that he had everything he would need, Cullen picked up the pack and slung it over his shoulders, and made his way swiftly down the flights of stairs towards the entrance of the tower.

He felt… what was it that he felt? Cullen wasn't sure. Excitement perhaps? After all, it had been many months since he was outside of the confines of the tower, and Maker knows how many years since he had seen any part of Ferelden beyond Lake Calenhad. And of course, then there was Amell…

Cullen felt his face flush at the thought of the mage. It was silly, this crush he had been nursing, but now it seems that at least he will spend some time with her before she becomes a Warden.

He finally found himself on the lower floor and made his way quickly to the entrance. He pushed the door open quietly and spied Amell sitting on the ground. Her staff was lying next to her and her head buried in her arms, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her flame red hair fell in a curtain around her, hiding her features from view. Cullen could feel a lump in his throat as he looked down at her. Grief radiated from her still form, and Cullen held himself in check. No matter how much he wanted to comfort her, they were still in the tower. A small cough drew his eyes to the Grey Warden standing a few metres away – Duncan, was it? – who beckoned him over.

"You must be the recruit that will accompanying us, is that correct?" The older man's tone was pleasant as Cullen approached him, and he seemed to accept this turn of events. No doubt the Knight Commander had sent someone to detain the two from leaving while they were having their talk. Cullen nodded and couldn't help but glance over at Amell's still form again. Duncan's gaze followed his, and he shook his head sadly.

"She is still somewhat in shock I believe," Duncan said softly. "I had hoped to recruit her under different circumstances, but it seems either way, she is still reluctant to leave the tower. But since you're here now, we leave at once. Would you be kind enough to tell her so? I'm sure a familiar face will be a comfort on the long journey ahead." With that Duncan turned to the guards at the door. Cullen moved slowly over to Amell, and knelt down beside her.

"M-Mage Amell?" he asked, silently cursing his own stutter. It only appeared whenever he spoke to her, and he could never seem to make himself stop. He placed a gauntlet clad hand on her shoulder, and shook her gently. Slowly, the mass of hair moved and slid off her shoulders as she raised her face from her arms. Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw him kneeling beside her.

"Cullen?" Amell's confused voice rang out in the small space of the entrance. "What are you doing here?"

Cullen gave her a tiny smile. "I'm here to accompany you until you become a full Grey Warden," he said gently, and offered her a hand. She gazed at him, confusion still apparent on her face, but took the offered hand anyway. He drew her up and moved away from her quickly, not wanting to draw more suspicion by lingering near her. He ducked down and handed her staff back to her, and nodded to Duncan who was waiting by the now opened doors. The cold night air blew in gusts through the archway, and he watched Amell shiver slightly in her thin robes. Mages didn't have anything thicker to wear since the Tower was warded against the cold, and Cullen felt guilty for his many layers under his armour which protected him from the chill.

He stood back and watched as Amell squared her shoulders, apprehension still written in every inch of her face, and moved slowly towards the doors. Duncan had already moved outside, and was waiting patiently for the two of them. Amell stopped near the line which marked the end of the Tower, and looked back at him. Her bright green eyes were filled with a million questions and doubts, and Cullen could do nothing but give her an encouraging look. _Go on,_ he thought. As if sensing his thoughts, Amell gave him a small smile, took a deep breath, and stepped over the entrance.

**–**


	3. OSTAGAR

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing, all belongs to the gods almighty at Bioware**_

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**OSTAGAR**

**–**

The journey to Ostagar took them nearly a week, and most of it was spent in silence. There was very little chatter among the three companions. While Duncan was kind enough to answer any questions he had, Cullen couldn't help but think that the older man had a lot on his mind, and so he kept quiet most of the time. Amell had barely said anything at all since they left the Tower, and most nights Cullen found her sitting by herself, staring up at the moon with a lost expression on her face. As much as he wished to talk to her, to be closer to her before he had to leave her to her Grey Warden life, he couldn't bear to interrupt her moments of solace.

The last time she had been outside the Tower would've been when she was brought in – surely something close to twelve years by now. It was apparent in the first few days that she was taking this chance to stare and commit everything she could to memory. Cullen had thought he saw her once ducking to pick up a pebble on the road. To be in that position, where a pebble seemed new and foreign... Cullen couldn't even begin to imagine. Sure, he was stuck in the Tower all the same, but they had privileges and could go outside whenever they wanted - just not beyond the island unless they had been ordered to.

But he could see that slowly, the wonder of seeing what lay beyond the stone walls of the Tower faded for her. They were not travelling on the main roads, and there were barely any inns around. The roads were rough and the nights were cold regardless of how well pitched the tents were. Regardless of this pace, Duncan was determined to press on South as fast as they could. They set up camp at the last light and rose at dawn. Even Cullen's templar training couldn't prevent the strain he was starting to feel. It had been so long since he went on a patrol for this long. Still, it could be worse, he reasoned to himself as he glanced at the mage moving slowly behind him.

Every step she took made her wince, and it was clear from the way she was leaning on her staff for support that her feet must be covered in blisters. Slippers were hardly enough to keep her feet from scraping on the road, and she was not used to this sort of travel.

_We should've gotten her boots,_ Cullen thought glumly, cursing himself for not considering the length of the journey. At least he had managed to find a cloak for her at the only inn they stopped by. It hadn't cost much, and the material was hardly good quality, but he hoped it kept the worst of the cold off at nights. The edges of her robes were already showing wear and tear, and it wasn't the first time that Cullen thought that she was literally dressed the worst possible way for such a journey.

"Not long now," Duncan's voice called back towards then, cutting through his thoughts, and Cullen sighed in relief as he realised their meaning. They were almost there, and he couldn't wait to get a few decent nights' rest before he had to head back to the Tower. And as Duncan predicted, it wasn't long before the peaks of Ostagar could be seen over the tree tops, flags flying from the top most towers. Despite its battered appearance, the fortress was still breathtaking in its size and grandeur.

Even Amell gave a sigh of relief when she spied the structure, and a small smile crossed her face. _She needs to smile more,_ Cullen thought as his gaze lingered on her face. Perhaps, out of the Tower, she might. Her gaze flickered from the fluttering flags, resting on him. Cullen tentatively smiled at her, and to his delight, she returned the gesture, albeit rather shyly.

"Here we are," Duncan finally exclaimed as they neared the huge doors leading inside Ostagar. "Now I must leave you both soon as I have to meet with a few commanders. However, feel free to investigate the camp. I'm sure some familiar faces can be found at the mages encampment." Here Duncan gave a kind smile to Amell, who seemed happy at the prospect of seeming other mages from the Circle.

"I'm sure you will guard her well, Templar Cullen. I will send word to pitch a temporary camp for you to stay in until you are ready to leave. You can return to the Circle once Amell's joining ritual is complete."

"Um, would I be able to get a bath?" Amell asked quietly, ducking her head towards the ground. Cullen almost started – it had been a while since he heard her speak.

"You will be able to have a bath once we arrive at camp," Duncan informed her with a small chuckle. "I'm sorry to have pushed you so hard, but speed was of the essence. It seems we have arrived on time."

"Ho there! Duncan!" a voice called out as the gates opened. The three companions turned their gaze towards a man clad in shining golden armour, sauntering towards them with a small troop of soldiers behind him. Everything about him seemed to yell importance, from his golden hair to the golden sword at his belt.

"King Cailan. I wasn't expecting-" Duncan started, but the King quickly cut him off mid-sentence as he broke away from the group and embraced the Grey Warden enthusiastically.

" – A royal welcome? I feared you were going to miss all the fun!" The king finished, humour laced in his voice and an impish grin on his face.

"Wouldn't dream of it, your majesty," Duncan replied as the king released him.

Cullen blinked. King Cailan? It was hard to believe that this man was the ruler of Ferelden for the past five years. In his head, Cullen had always imagined Ferelden's king to be like Greagoir - steadfast and stern. This man before him... seemed far too eager and young to be king.

"Either way, you missed some already. Darkspawn charged the gate last night, but it was hardly a battle. An easy victory for us at any rate. They fought like wild animals! You would think these beasts would be more of a challenge, but that wasn't the case. "

"Disappointed, your Majesty?" Duncan asked lightly, his voice betraying nothing.

"I was hoping this may be a Blight. Like the ones the bards sing of. But this will have to do," the King shrugged his massive amour clad shoulders. The man turned and looked at the other two standing before him. Cullen felt Amell shrink and move behind his frame, effectively blocking her from view.

"And this must be the new recruit Duncan was talking about," King Cailan stated to them with the same broad grin he had before. Cullen felt confused. Was the king talking about him?

"A templar huh? Wonderful! I'm sure you'll make a great addition to the Wardens!"

"You're mistaken, your majesty" Cullen bowed quickly, his face flushing. "I'm... not the new recruit."

"Oh?" An eyebrow was raised.

"She is."

Cullen moved aside and guided Amell towards the front, who was clutching her staff as if her life depended on it. She stopped in front of King Cailan, looking very much like a startled deer. She gave a clumsy bow, and muttered a soft 'your majesty'' to the man in front of her. Cullen could see the King was baffled by this change of events. A small girl was the recruit, instead of the templar? To his credit though, the King recovered remarkably quickly and graced the mage with a cheerful smile.

"I apologise for the mistake, my lady. I got carried away. I'm sure you will be a fine Grey Warden," King Cailan stated brightly. Amell's cheeks coloured as she ducked her head and bowed again, mumbling a thank you towards the King. The King nodded his head towards them, and turned back to Duncan.

"Well, I must be off!" he declared, gesturing for his soldiers to move out. "Loghain has asked me to rally the troops. Farewell until we meet again!"

With that, the golden King turned and took his leave, the soldiers falling in behind him. Duncan sighed and turned back to Cullen and Amell.

"So, what do you make of him?" he asked, gesturing towards the departing form.

"He seemed nice," Amell stated softly. Cullen on the other hand, felt a little put off. The fate of Ferelden rested in the hands of a man who acted like a childish boy?

"Who in the Maker's name would wish for a Blight?" Cullen asked with a small frown.

"Try not to judge him too harshly," Duncan sighed. "While I agree with you, it can be a difficult position to be in, being King. His father Maric was a great man and a good king."

"What if he's right," Amell suggested, "Maybe this isn't a Blight?"

"For all our sakes I hope he is." Duncan gestured for them to follow. "Regardless, we have much to prepare for. If the Darkspawn have already been attacking, then we mustn't waste any more time. I will be in the centre of the camp. When you are ready to begin join me there. If you cannot find me, ask for the Grey Warden Alistair. He will be in charge of your recruitment process."

Cullen couldn't shake the feeling that the process would be more than paperwork, but he had very little idea as to what it might actually entail. Unfortunately, it was one of the things that Duncan had been less than forthcoming about, so he decided to keep the questions to himself.

_Maybe I'll ask Amell after,_ he thought as he set off down towards the base camp, trailing behind a silent mage who was clutching her staff like a lifeline.


	4. GREY WARDEN

_**Disclaimer: Gaider is god, etc I own nothing and I'm sad about that. **_

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**GREY WARDEN**

**–**

The bridge spamming the gap above the huge valley below them was just as magnificent as the fortress seemed from the outside. Guards were stations every dozen of metres or so along the edge, and seeing this reassured Cullen that this place was well guarded.

The two companions made their way slowly along the bridge, Cullen trailing a few feet behind the silent mage. He was glad of their pace – the faster they walked, the less time it meant that they had together. Although… Cullen sighed internally. Despite travelling together for nearly a week he had barely managed to utter three entire sentences to her the entire journey. There were few chances for them to be alone, and now was one of them. Surely he should say something to break the ice?

"A-are you okay?" he heard his stammering voice ask. Amell, who had been seemingly lost in her own thoughts, started at the sound and turned, gazing at him with wide eyes. He noted that she had never been this jumpy before in the Tower. Maybe it's the amount of guards around them, or perhaps it was the ordeal with the blood mage and that chantry sister. Or perhaps she just wasn't used to being outside yet. Either way, she slowly seemed to relax, enough to give him a small smile.

"I'm fine, Cullen," she replied softly. "I... thank you for asking."

Silence fell between them again, and Cullen cursed is inability to make small talk with the mage. They kept walking towards the main camp, the pace slow and uneven.

"My feet do hurt like hell though," she muttered eventually, and Cullen once again felt a twinge of guilt at her words. Boots would've been much better. He gazed at her figure, watched as she leaned against her staff for support every step. Staring at her staff however, it slowly hit him - she was a _mage_.

"Er, Mage Amell? I don't mean to pry but... you are a Spirit mage, yes?"

She nodded vaguely. "Yes, you're correct. Why do you ask?"

"Can't you use magic to heal yourself?" he asked eventually. "Your feet, I mean. They seem to be giving you pain."

Amell blinked at him, confusion written across her face.

"But… I'm not allowed to do healing magic outside of the healer's wards." The way she stated the sentence so simply and plainly made Cullen want to smack his head against the ground. She needn't have suffered at all! To be so obedient, even miles away from any Circle? The entire trip here and she hadn't even tried to perform any magic. _And the Knight-Commander thought that sending me along with her was necessary for the safety of everyone one else..._ Cullen snorted lightly. Loud enough for Amell to have heard, because she gave him a bewildered look. Cullen flushed, hoping that she hadn't interpreted his amusement as laughter towards her,

"Mage Amell…" he began, unsure of how to explain it to her without being rude. "We're no longer in the Tower. Since you're going to be a Grey Warden, I… I don't think the rules of the Circle apply to you anymore. You're a-allowed to do magic, as long as it's not blood magic."

She blinked again and stopped in her tracks.

There was a long pause. So long in fact, that Cullen begun to worry that he might've broken her with his explanation, but slowly, she bent down and removed her slippers. Her feet appeared, rubbed red and raw in some areas and blisters clearly forming in others. Cullen winced in sympathy. A soft blue glow surrounded her hands, and he watched as she lowered her them to her feet and moved them in slow circular motions. Before his eyes, blisters began fading and skin reforming themselves, until her feet looked as good as new.

A small groan escaped her lips as she wiggled her toes, undoubtedly enjoying not having to walk around with tattered feet anymore. Despite the innocence meaning behind the sound, Cullen felt his face burn and quickly turned away and gazed at the cliffs in the distance, reciting the Chant in his head. Only when he was certain of his own composure did he turn back towards Amell, who was now clutching her slippers delicately in one hand. She turned to him tentatively but avoided his gaze.

"Thank you," she said with ducked head, but Cullen can see the edges of her lips curled up in a smile. He felt a surge of happiness and he quickly attempted to quash. It wouldn't do to think too much about her actions, especially now.

"Y-you did all the work really, I only r-reminded you," he replied with embarrassment. He cursed his own awkwardness as he heard the stutter return with renewed force.

"We should m-move into the camp quickly," he reminded her, and they set off again, this time at a much quicker pace, and a much more companionable silence between them.

**–**

Inside the camp was rather less than impressive as the view from afar. People rushed about with single minded purpose, and crates and equipment seemed to be stacked everywhere he turned. Towards their right, he could feel the tell-tale signs of magic humming through the air. It seemed like Amell could feel it too, because she picked up her pace and made a beeline for the enclosure.

"Wait," Cullen called out and hurried after her. Regardless of how well behaved the mage was, he still had a task, and he needed to fulfill it. However, it seemed Amell had only eyes and ears for one person: another female mage stationed close to the entrance of the enclosure. Clad in soft red robes, the woman was perusing a scroll held in both her hands.

"Wynne!" Amell cried happily and launched herself at an older woman whose white hair was drawn away from her face into a neat and tidy bun at the back of her head. The older mage turned her head in surprise, and clearly was befuddled by the girl suddenly in her arms. Cullen finally recognized her as one of the Senior Enchanters at the Circle. He had never spoken to her, but her reputation as the mother hen of the mages was spoken often about by other templars.

"Solona? By the Maker, what are you doing here?"

"Oh Wynne, it was horrible. I have so much to tell you, and of course, you need to know the reason I'm here, but I'm just so happy to see you..."

Cullen silently moved away from the two mages, and stationed himself underneath one of the trees in the clearing - far enough so that he wouldn't overhear the conversation, but close enough to keep them in sight. He would've felt like an intruder if he had stayed tailing her during her conversation with someone who was clearly dear to her. Despite that, he was still a templar, and his duty was to keep guard. So he kept watch at a distance, and it was odd to see Amell so animated, talking to the Senior Enchanter with wild arm gestures and emotion written all across her face. He realised for all of the looks that they shared in the Tower and the years they've known each other, he knew very little about her beyond the superficial facts. He knew a lot about her mage training, that was true, but he didn't have a clue to the most basic things like her favourite colour. It certainly was a sobering thought. But he knew that it would've never be tolerated, forming a friendship with a mage.

_And now the choice is once again out of my hands_, he thought glumly. He will be heading back to the Tower, most likely tomorrow morning. He would return to his duties, and learn to put her and this ill-advised infatuation behind him. And she will be off, fighting a war against the darkspawn and travelling Ferelden. Something which she probably never would've imagined in all her years in the Circle.

He didn't know how long he stood there in the shade of the tree, keeping watch over the flame haired mage, but after a while, it was apparent that the Senior Enchanter was urging her on, as well as few of the older templars in the mage encampment. He watched as Amell hugged the older woman tightly, before turning and glancing around. He moved towards her, and inclined his head. She caught his gaze and seemed to relax slightly, no doubt comforted by a familiar face.

"I guess we should move on and find that Grey Warden that Duncan told us about," he said to her once she within earshot. "I think... his name was Alistair?"

Amell bit her lip and nodded stiffly, but said nothing. Cullen hid his disappointment at her lack of speech towards him. after seeing such animated display, it stung a little to know that he will never be on the receiving end of such enthusiasm and warmth. Nonetheless, it cannot be helped. This is for your own good, Cullen berated himself as he gestured towards the ramp leading out to a broken temple at the back of the area. They moved silently across the camp, skirting around people rushing about, looking for another Grey Warden. It wasn't long before the came across two men, one a mage and another decked out in armor with a shield and a sword strapped to his back. Some sort of argument was clearly taking place, and the mage stormed off soon enough. The other man merely chuckled at the retreating figure, Spying the two companions standing before the ramp, he grinned and sauntered over. Cullen gazed at him with hesitation. He couldn't have been any older than he was, and he looked too carefree considering the situation and the place they were in.

"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together," he said cheerfully, raking a hand through a mess of blonde hair. Amell moved slightly behind Cullen, who blinked at the statement.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, unsure of what the other man was saying. Amell seemed to be content to simply try and fade away. The other man just flapped a hand as if to say 'don't worry about it', before gazing at them suspiciously.

"Wait a minute...", he squinted at them, rubbing his chin. "We haven't met have we? I don't suppose you're a mage, what with the huge templar insignia blazoned across your chest." Here he stopped and gazed at him thoughtfully.

"You know, I was training to be a templar before I was recruited. Wow, imagine me in that armor..." he trailed off, a dreamy look appearing on his face. Cullen had no idea what to make of the man standing in front of him. And did he mention something about being recruited? Surely not?

"Are you the Grey Warden Alistair?"

"I am indeed! And let me guess. The new recruit? Ah, of course! Should of recognized you right away! Duncan did say that there'd be two of your travelling with him."

"This is Mage Amell," Cullen stepped aside and pushed Amell forward. Alistair smiled cheerily at her, seemingly unfazed by the slip of a girl standing in front of him.

"You know... it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?" His question was met with silence, and to his credit the man continued without battering an eyelid. "Well, you know what? Too many men in the Grey Wardens, that's what I always say," he winked at the girl. Amell blushed and stared down at the ground, resolutely mute. Cullen frowned slightly at the gesture and clenched his fist.

"Anyway," Alistair continued on, oblivious to the other man's glare, "As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining. We should get going, Duncan's probably waiting for us... And um, sorry, didn't quite get your name?"

"It's Cullen," Cullen replied with a rather stony expression.

"Ah yes, well... Templar Cullen, allow me to take your charge off your hands. I'm assuming you would like a good night's rest? If you go find the quartermaster, I'm sure he can find a spare tent for you around the camp. Meanwhile," here Alistair turned to Amell again, "I'm be taking you to prepare. We should hurry, there's not much time left."

With that Alistair turned and headed back down towards the main camp area, gesturing for Amell to follow. Cullen scowled and turned back to the mage as his side, her knuckles white as she gripped her staff. Amell looked at him uncertainly, and then at the retreating figure of the other Grey Warden.

"Cullen, I'm scared," she whispered softly, her green eyes filled with trepidation. Cullen felt his heart ache a little at her confession. Of course she would be. A spirit mage who has known nothing but the grey stone walls of the tower, and now being thrown to the wolves to learn how to be a Grey Warden. And now to some secret joining or another...

_Why should you care?_ the proper part of his mind argued. _By all rights, what happens to this mage is none of your concern after this! _But that was the problem. He did care, and he loathed to leave her in the care of some happy-go-lucky ex-templar. Still, he had little choice it seemed, and the sooner he bid his own farewells, the sooner he can return home and forget all about this.

"It's going to be all right," he said softly, placing a gauntlet covered hand on her shoulder gently. She didn't move away at the gesture, but instead grabbed onto his hand, and squeezed.

"All right," she whispered and slowly released him. "I guess... this is goodbye."

"I guess so," Cullen replied, trying to ignore the pangs of sadness that filled him at this statement.

"Thank you for coming with me Cullen. And... thank you. For being kind."

With that, she turned and moved away quickly, hurrying after the other man with a determined look on her face. Cullen stood still for a few moments longer, staring at her red hair flowing behind her and her figure growing smaller and smaller until she turned a corner, and was gone.


End file.
